


born of hell

by Mars_and_Moon



Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angry Peter Parker, Gen, Hell's Kitchen, Matt Murdock is a Good Bro, Minor Violence, Origin Story, Peter Parker is a Mess, less parental and more partnerships, note; in this house we we don't hate anyone but we are critical of some of their choices, set up for a larger universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:20:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28103823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mars_and_Moon/pseuds/Mars_and_Moon
Summary: Peter Benjamin Parker, born from scientists and adventurers and witchcraft and stories of merciless gods and centuries of hardship, wears the name Prince of Hell like it's a goddamn honor.It is, in fact, a goddamn honor.
Relationships: Matt Murdock & Peter Parker
Comments: 4
Kudos: 116





	born of hell

**Author's Note:**

> this is part of a larger universe. not sure if i'll ever get around to writing it, but at the very least have this.
> 
> anyway, have fun;

Peter Benjamin Parker, born from scientists and adventurers and witchcraft and stories of merciless gods and centuries of hardship, wears the name Prince of Hell like it's a goddamn honor. 

It is, in fact, a goddamn honor. 

Other nicknames come and go, Antichrist, Beelzebub, Son of the Devil, Hellhound, but  _ Prince of Hell _ means something. It means fifteen year old Peter Parker, all along in the world, belonged somewhere. Somewhere that wasn't an overpriced lab where he was scared to touch because every item in there was worth more than a month's rent. Somewhere that wasn't a school where he only had two friends, and as wonderful as they were they never understood the rage in Peter's heart. Somewhere that wasn't his Uncle's, that didn't remind him of what and who he couldn't save. 

Not knowing that when Peter decided to fuck off to Hell's Kitchen one cold January night, not in a high tech suit but black clothes that didn't offer protection beyond hiding who he was. An inside joke with himself, a callback to the first vigilante to have a name beyond a menace to society, it wasn't funny, but it made him feel better. Spider-Man didn't feel like an actual difference anymore, he felt stuck, and he felt pissed. Peter had cultivated a reputation of  _ Friendly _ that didn't feel real at that time in his life, because he wasn't friendly most of the time. He wanted to break a bone or six, and didn't give a fuck if it was his or someone else's. 

And, well, Daredevil hadn't been as active during that time because Matt Murdock promised he wouldn't go out during court cases. 

Peter pulled an older man off a scared girl and hit until his face was bloody. Peter picked up a wrench and broke a mugger's elbow, the  _ crack!  _ sound filled him with a sense of glee. Peter helped a drunk girl home, because even angry and bloody he had been raised right. Peter grabbed the robber with a gun by the hair and bashed his head against the floor harder than necessary, the cashier gave him a strange look before wordlessly offering a box of bandages and an energy drink. She wouldn't take no for an answer. Peter patched up his knuckles near the docks, brought the drink home and drank it while he finished his homework.

Walking into school three and a half hours later didn't make him want to strangle someone in gym class. His history teacher raised an eyebrow at the bandages but said nothing, because he's Peter Parker and couldn't possibly be in trouble. 

Walking into the lab with the reminder that last night he did something a little more made it easier to reach out and touch, to grab and create and forget what had built this company. Peter doesn't hate SI or Mr. Stark or Mrs. Potts, but sometimes he remembers what they represent and looking them in the eyes is difficult. 

He felt calm enough to go out as Spider-Man that night, he stuck to Queens and tied up the attempted criminals instead of drawing blood. Peter tried to brush off the night before as no harm no foul, even with his bruised knuckles and the memory of blood. 

Daredevil doesn't see it that way, and instead broke his promise to find out who was on his turf. What they wanted, who they worked for, etcetera, etcetera. He found out nothing, and tried to not let himself get paranoid. It could have been a one off, it could have been a coincidence, it could have been, it could have been. Matt Murdock could not be the devil, he had court in the morning. 

Nothing else happened until March; Peter _tried_ _so hard_ to not have anything happen, because he didn't want to be angry and see blood cover his hands and walk around in black. 

He. 

Didn't. 

Want. 

It. 

Until, well, until he almost snapped the arm of a man while being Spider-Man and realized that, okay, he needed to take a step back for a second, and, well, Hell's Kitchen was right there and the black clothing was stashed at the back of his closet and it would just be one more time. One more time when he could be angry, and then never again. 

Daredevil found him in an alley near a bar, holding a broken pipe waiting for a  _ snapping!  _ sound from the man's ribs. Peter would admit it hadn't been his finest moment, but it probably hadn't warranted being tackled and punched in face. Or maybe it had. 

Peter had sworn and realized that he would have to hit Daredevil if he wanted to get out of this situation without a trip to a hospital and May never allowing him out of her sight again. 

Except he really didn't, because Daredevil paused for half a second and growled out; "Wait, how old are you?" 

Peter took no chances, and kneed  _ fucking Daredevil  _ in the chest before promptly booking it as far and fast as he could, swearing up and down and on his mother's grave that he would never step foot in Hell's Kitchen so long as he himself lived and breathed. 

He went back the next week. 

Peter hadn't actually planned to sit on a rooftop next to Daredevil and explain the rage in his hands and heart; he hadn't planned on being guided to an old gym with faded letters on the door. 

He stood there and listened to the world's most cryptic speech ever: "Everyone must find salvation, Spider-Man, don't let yours be found in blood." 

It felt more real than any conversation with Mr. Stark, maybe because it was by someone who could actually relate. Relate to the worry about bills, about rage, about feeling out of place. And cryptic words aside, Daredevil genuinely understood what Peter was saying and how he felt. It was like being seen for the first time in years. 

Before leaving, Daredevil placed a key into his hands. "Try not to break anything too valuable, okay?" 

Peter doesn't say anything. What is there to say to that? He just...he was just given access to a gym in Hell's Kitchen by Daredevil himself? What the hell does even mean? Who does that? He nods his head, but stares at the key like it's a bomb. Daredevil left before Peter could find his voice. However, he looks around and decides that a few minutes with a punching bag wouldn't hurt anyone. 

Peter is halfway home when he realizes that Daredevil had called him Spider-Man, a name Peter most certainly did not give him. 

What the fuck?

Oh goddamnit. 

Fuck. 

Shit. 

_ How?  _  
  


**Author's Note:**

> *heavily inspired by the Antichrist 'Verse by Crescent_Blues, and the other works inspired by said 'verse.


End file.
